


Lose Control

by OfEndlessWonder



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 09:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18848377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfEndlessWonder/pseuds/OfEndlessWonder
Summary: Villanelle has Eve’s number, and she’s not afraid to use it. A series of texts between our two favourite ladies.





	Lose Control

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the opening scene of 2x07, if you haven’t seen it yet. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Eve’s at the office when she gets the first text, her phone buzzing from the depths of her bag and she reaches for it hoping that it’s Niko, that he’s finally come to his senses and wants to talk. 

It’s not, though  – it’s a string of emojis and an invitation, and Eve stares for a long time at the ‘V x’ that the message ends with, because she absolutely did not give Villanelle her number, and she certainly hadn’t saved the other woman’s number in return. 

Carolyn had given them strict instructions, after all, not to have any technological communication, but Eve supposes that she really shouldn’t be surprised, seeing Villanelle flout the rules.

She is an assassin, after all, and Eve knows that she doesn’t work well with others. 

_ How the hell did you get my number?  _ Eve knows she shouldn’t reply, shouldn’t encourage Villanelle, because this is an invitation in itself, to keep contacting Eve whenever she wants, but her self-control is lacking, lately, and she really would like an answer. 

_ I stole your phone earlier when you weren’t looking and put my number in it.  _

Of course she did, Eve thinks, as she reads the response, because that’s exactly the kind of behaviour she should have learnt to expect from the other woman by now. 

_ You didn’t do anything else to my phone, did you?  _ Eve responds, suspicious, because she’s not sure she trusts VIllanelle alone with her phone, snooping through her things. 

_...No?  _ So, that’s a yes, and Eve narrows her eyes, hasilty exits her message chain with Villanelle, and she doesn’t have to look far to see one change that Villanelle had taken it upon herself to make.

Because the text beneath had been from Niko, telling her he’d arrived in Oxford safely, only instead of Niko’s name, the contact is now saved as ‘fudge-face’, and Eve rolls her eyes. 

_ Sorry about your old phone, by the way,  _ comes another message, just a few seconds later.  _ I promise I won’t drop this one into a mug of champagne.  _

_ No,  _ Eve responds, frowning down at her phone,  _ you won’t, because you won’t be in my house again.  _

_ Oh, Eve.  _ Eve can imagine the look that would be on Villanelle’s face as she typed the response, the bright spark in her eyes, the mischievous quirk of her lips, and it’s really not healthy, to think about Villanelle so much, but Eve had given up trying to stop a long time ago.  _ I was there this morning.  _

_ You were WHAT???  _

Villanelle’s response is simply a wink, and Eve would throw her phone at the wall, if she hadn’t just gotten herself a new one.

She just doesn’t know how Villanelle can be so damn infuriating, can manage to get under her skin like she does, and Eve has no idea how, in spite of this, she’s still the most attractive, alluring person that Eve has ever met. 

Working with Villanelle is probably going to be the death of her, though, because it’s  _ exhausting _ . She has to have her guard up twenty-four seven, because if she slips, even slightly, she knows Villanelle will pounce, and Eve isn’t sure that she’ll have the strength to resist her.

So she’s as aloof and as professional as she can possibly be, and she knows it’s getting to Villanelle, that she’s close to snapping, and Eve doesn’t know what will happen to the pair of them when she inevitably does. 

//

Eve half-expects Villanelle to be sat waiting for her, when she gets back home later that night, after her impromptu stop at Niko’s new abode. 

She isn’t, but the evidence that she  _ was  _ there is everywhere – she hadn’t trashed the place as overtly as Eve had, when she’d been in Villanelle’s apartment in Paris, but Eve can tell that most of her stuff has been messed with.

It’s like a child has had a tantrum, Eve’s clothes strewn across the floor, her CD’s all messed up, and Christ, there’s a rotting banana in her sugar bowl. 

She wonders, briefly, as she’s attempting to tidy up (though she’s sure she’ll be finding things hidden about the place for days to come), if she should change her locks, but she suspects that there’s no obstacle that could keep Villanelle from getting in here, if she really wanted to – it’s probably a good thing she hadn’t been made as murderous as Eve had initially feared after the stabbing, or else she’d probably be dead already. 

She’s just settled on the couch with a glass of wine and the huge file she’s gotten together on Aaron Peel and Villanelle’s cover (she has a sneaking suspicion that Villanelle is absolutely not going to read it, and Eve wants to prepared when Villanelle is not) when her phone buzzes.

This time, she doesn’t expect it to be Niko – she thinks that after today, they’re finally, really over, and she probably needs to process that further but throwing herself into work is less emotionally taxing. 

_ What are you doing?  _ Villanelle asks, and Eve should ignore her, should absolutely not encourage her, but she feels lonely, in this house that’s so filled with the presence of the man that she used to love, and it would be nice to talk to someone who isn’t interesting in judging her.

_ Working _ .

_ Boringggggg.  _ She can easily imagine the way Villanelle would say it if she were here, the way she’d draw out the words.  _ Come over, we can watch a movie.  _

_ No, thank you.  _ Eve can’t think of a worse idea – she and VIllanelle alone in a room together rarely ends in anything but a disaster, and they’ve never had a reason to be together other than work.

Eve is a little scared of what would happen, if they ever found themselves alone without a purpose. 

_ Why not?  _ Villanelle will no doubt be pouting, and Eve rolls her eyes. 

_ Because I’m working. You should be, too – have you read the file that I gave you?  _

_ You’re funny, Eve.  _ Eve supposes that she shouldn’t really be surprised by that response. Then, a moment later, there’s another message.  _ Are you sure you don’t want to come over? I don’t want you to be lonely. _

_ Why do you think I’d be lonely? _

_ I know Niko left you.  _ Eve would ask how Villanelle knew that, but she supposes that it’s probably obvious.

_ Thanks for meddling in my relationship, by the way.  _ She wants to know just what, exactly, Villanelle had said to Niko when she’d gone in search of him in Oxford, just what seeds she’d planted in his mind, that had given him the strength to walk away. 

_ I wasn’t meddling _ . Villanelle tries to defend herself.  _ I was trying to help you. He’s much too nice and normal for you.  _

I  _ am nice and normal,  _ Eve replies, but her fingers tremble as she types the words, and she wonders when they’d become such a bold faced lie. 

_ Whatever, Eve.  _ She can imagine the petulant look on Villanelle’s face perfectly.  _ Call me when you stop being in denial.  _

Eve blinks down at the screen, at Villanelle’s words, can sense the rage that’s hidden within them, simmering beneath the surface. 

She expects another message, some kind of follow-up, but no matter how many times she checks her screen, it never comes. 

//

_ Are you okay?  _ Eve sends the message late at night, after hours of tossing and turning, trying and failing to get to sleep in a bed that feels too big and too empty without someone curled up at her side. 

She hasn’t heard from Villanelle since she stormed out of the Peel residence, since Konstantin had told her to stop smothering her, and give her time to cool off.

But Eve isn’t patient, she isn’t good at waiting, and it’s a little terrifying, thinking about what VIllanelle might be up to, stalking the dark streets of London with fire in her eyes and ice in her heart, and honestly, it’s some sort of miracle that Aaron is still breathing. 

She stares at her phone screen for a long time before she sends the message, because it feels different, her reaching out to Villanelle instead of the other way around, feels like she’s blurring the lines between them (laid out so carefully by her), but she just can’t help herself when it comes to Villanelle.

She tells herself that it’s just because she’s worried that she’ll wake up to the news of a murder somewhere nearby, that she’s worried Villanelle will compromise their investigation, but really, it’s because she’s worried about  _ Villanelle _ .

She remembers the speech from the AA meeting, and she knows in her bones that Villanelle was telling the truth, that she really is bored out of her mind and she thinks that it must be worse now more than ever, now that she’s been thrown out of her comfort zone, is no longer doing what she knows she’s good at. 

She doesn’t want her to spiral, doesn’t want to lose her, and she doesn’t know when their lives had become so intertwined that Eve can’t imagine a world without her. 

She waits for a long time but doesn’t get a response, stares at the screen until her eyes are blurry and unfocused, until it’s no longer late at night but early morning, instead, just waiting (hoping) to see those three little dots appear.

They don’t, and Eve falls asleep, utterly exhausted, with the phone still in her hand. 

She wakes with her alarm at seven a.m. the next morning, and is wide awake the second she realises that Villanelle has replied. 

_ I’m fine.  _

That’s it.

There’s no emojis, no playful sign-off, no kiss, and it makes Eve think that she really isn’t fine, after all. 

//

Eve waits until it’s a reasonable time before she texts Villanelle again. 

_ We need to talk about what happened last night.  _ She sends it as she’s eating breakfast, a bowl of cereal at her kitchen counter with the last of the milk, and she’s low on food because that had always been Niko’s forte, but now she’s going to have to learn to fend for herself once again. 

The thought isn’t a pleasant one, that she’s in her late forties and about to file for divorce, and she realises that, although her marriage has been a shell for longer than she’d probably like to admit, it’s going to take some getting used to, Niko not being here. 

The house is filled with him, with their memories, lingering like ghosts. 

(Villanelle’s memory lingers here, too, in this kitchen, and had it really only been a few days ago thatshe’d been pressed against her sink, pinned in place by the weight of Villanelle’s body?). 

Eve gets no response from Villanelle, so she sends a follow up text, and then another, and she thinks that, if anyone looked at their message chain, she would look like a stalker, or perhaps a jealous, obsessive girlfriend. 

She’s sure Villanelle would like that second option, is probably ignoring her on purpose, to piss her off. 

_ Okay, that’s it. I’m coming over.  _ She’s going because she has to, because it’s work, because Carolyn wants her to try and persuade Villanelle to get on Aaron’s good side (Eve isn’t sure  _ how _ , unless her assault last night had somehow impressed him, although, knowing Aaron, it probably had), and  _ not  _ because she’s worried.

That’s what she tells herself, anyway.

She’s out of the front door before Villanelle has the chance to reply, and she still hasn’t heard anything by the time she arrives at her door. 

She knocks, but there’s no answer, so she lets herself in with the key she’d been given, and when she’s confronted with the image of Villanelle lounging in her bed, she freezes. 

She’s wearing a robe tied loosely at her waist, blinks at Eve in surprise and it’s only then that Eve realises that she hadn’t been ignoring her on purpose, after all – she just mustn’t have checked her phone. 

It takes her a moment, but she manages to slip into her work persona, manages to act like she isn’t affected by Villanelle wearing very little clothing, but when she slips out of her coat and feels Villanelle’s eyes on her, gaze so heated it’s practically scorching, Eve has to turn her back and look away.

“Are you okay?” Villanelle asks, shifting closer, and Eve doesn’t know how to breathe, not when she’s close, not when last time they sat on a bed together, it had ended with blood on her hands. 

“I don’t know,” she answers, and if that ain’t the goddamn truth, because she doesn’t think she’s ever felt okay since the first time she’d laid eyes on Villanelle, in that bathroom what felt like a whole lifetime ago. 

Villanelle tries to pry, but Eve isn’t going to tell her that Villanelle had worried her, can’t let Villanelle see how much she cares, so she deflects, asks what she’s wanted to since she’d heard VIllanelle’s speech at the AA meeting the previous day.

She asks because it’s been driving her crazy – if VIllanelle really, truly, doesn’t feel anything, doesn’t want anything, then what is her obsession with Eve? If she doesn’t want her, then why does she look at Eve like she wants to devour her? 

“I feel things when I’m with you,” Villanelle murmurs, and there’s something oh so earnest in her eyes, and Eve feels like a freight train has just hit her in the middle of her chest. 

It’s almost a relief, when she hears a door open somewhere else in the apartment. It’s a relief until it’s not, because although they’ve stopped her having to process what Villanelle had just said, Eve realises that there’s only one reason why a woman would be dressed like  _ that  _ and hovering awkwardly in the middle of Villanelle’s apartment, waiting to leave, and that reason is she spent the night. 

Eve doesn’t know where to look – she can’t look at the woman, because she blinks and she imagines Villanelle kissing her, Villanelle touching her, and it sends fury, like fire, licking through her veins. She can’t look at Villanelle, because that’s even worse, because Villanelle had spent the night fucking this woman while Eve had been awake, worrying, and it makes her sick, so she stares straight ahead and tries not to focus on what’s happening around her. 

The woman leaves (thank fuck), and Eve has to get out of there, she can’t be here, sitting on this bed where Villanelle had bedded someone else, scrambles to her feet and tries to put up a blockade between them. 

“Don’t be jealous,” Villanelle says, and Eve almost chokes on a laugh, and she’d thought it had been bad, when she’d seen Gemma’s hand on Niko’s arm at the school, but god, that was nothing compared to what she feels now, and it’s a miracle that she’s still standing. “I’m not with them, when I’m  _ with  _ them.”

The ‘I’m with you’ is unspoken but unmistakable, and Eve doesn’t know what to do with this feeling in her chest, with the words that threaten to spill from her lips, and she wants to hurt Villanelle the way she’s hurting right now, wants to spit vitriol and ‘of course I’m not jealous – I don’t want you that way’ even though it’s a lie, because she knows that will twist the knife in that much deeper. 

Before she can open her mouth, another door opens, and Eve is flooded with disbelief as another woman appears, and Villanelle looks like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and Eve is going to scream. 

Does scream, and her “anyone else here?” echoes around the apartment, and Eve wouldn’t be surprised if someone answered, if Villanelle had another woman stashed away somewhere.

She has to get out of there, makes her excuses and turns on her heel before VIllanelle can say anything that would make her want to stay. Outside, the air is cool but it does nothing to ease the fire in her heart, the anger that boils deep in her gut, and she knows it’s irrational, to feel this way, to care  _ this  _ much about a  _ murderer _ , but god, she does, she really fucking does, and it hurts more than it should, that Villanelle can so easily lose herself in someone else, when Eve knows she would never be able to do the same. 

//

_ Eve, I’m sorry.  _

_ Eve, please talk to me.  _

_ Eveeeeeeeeeee. _

_ I told you, they didn’t mean anything to me.  _

_ If I thought I could have you, I wouldn’t have taken them home.  _

_ I was thinking about you the whole time.  _

_ I’m always thinking about you.  _

_ Do you still think about me all of the time? _

_ You don’t have to answer that.  _

The texts are frequent, and annoying, and Eve doesn’t answer a single one, although she can’t help but glance at the screen whenever it lights up to read the message.

She’s still seething, and she’s taking it out on everyone else around her – she’s been sullen and rude all morning, and since she’d snapped at Hugo earlier that morning when he’d asked if she was ever going to answer her phone, no-one has said a word to her. 

She’s annoyed at herself, mostly, but she doesn’t want to confront her feelings, doesn’t want to acknowledge why the knowledge that Villanelle had slept with someone ( _ two  _ someones, and how does that even  _ happen _ ?) makes her feel like she’s going to be sick. 

(It’s because she wishes it had been her, she knows that, it’s because the thought of VIllanelle touching anyone else makes her stomach twist, and Villanelle is supposed to want  _ her _ , and if that’s true then why had she gone home with someone else?).

So she’s a raging bitch, because that’s easier than dealing with her tumultuous thoughts, and she’d always suspected that working with Villanelle would be an absolute catastrophe, but she’d never imagined that  _ this  _ would be the reason why. 

_ I spoke to Aaron, like you wanted. We’re going to Rome. It’s going to be really boring if you ignore me the whole time.  _ Eve reads the next message and doesn’t know whether she should be happy that they’re close to getting Peel or filled with trepidation because she and Villanelle in Rome together sounds like a recipe for disaster. 

She wonders how Villanelle had gotten back in Aaron’s good graces, wonders if she’d flirted with him or even more, hates that she cares. 

Carolyn, at least, seems pleased when Eve tells her the news, and at least she’s impressed her boss, even if the rest of her life is falling apart. 

“Oh, excellent,” she says, when Eve finds her in a cafe later that afternoon. “I’ll make a start on the necessary arrangements.”

Eve half wants to ask to stay, for Carolyn to send Jess and Hugo, but that will lead to questions that she’s not prepared to answer, so she says nothing at all. 

“Perhaps you should go home and get some rest, Eve.” Carolyn looks at her with some measure of concern. “You look tired. And you might have a big week ahead.” 

She takes Carolyn’s advice, because she  _ is  _ exhausted, both from the lack of sleep and from the emotional drain this day has taken on her, but she wishes that she’d gone back to the office instead because when she gets home, she finds Villanelle waiting for her, sitting in the dark like some kind of moping ghost. 

“Jesus  _ fucking  _ Christ,” Eve says when she turns on the light and sees Villanelle on her couch, pressing a hand against her hammering heart. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You were ignoring me,” Villanelle says, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. 

“So you thought you’d just  _ drop by _ ?” Eve stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips, and she wonders what Villanelle would do if she turned around and left, if she’d chase after her, slam the door shut and pin her against it before she could make it outside.

She hates the fact that the thought makes her shiver. 

“I wanted to apologise.”

“You already did that,” Eve waves her phone in Villanelle’s general direction. “About three million times.”

“So you  _ did  _ read my messages. And you didn’t respond anyway.” Villanelle looks hurt, and Eve can’t tell if it’s real or fake. 

(it’s easier for her to deal with if she tells herself that it’s fake).

“Like  _ you  _ can talk. How long did it take you to reply last night?” Eve knows that there’s anger crackling through her words, but she can’t quite manage to bite them back. 

“I was a little preoccupied.” It feels like a slap in the face, and Eve balls her hands into fists. “Look, I said I was sorry, okay? What more do you want from me?”

_ Everything _ , Eve thinks, but that’s such a dangerous thought, one that she knows she can’t reveal to Villanelle. 

“I don’t know,” she says, instead, and Villanelle rolls her eyes. 

“Of course you don’t.”

“What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?” It’s easier to argue with her, to push back against her, because Eve is scared that if she lets her walls down then she will break. 

“Nothing,” Villanelle mutters, but there’s a sullen look on her face, and Eve wonders if she’s regretting coming over here.

“Have you trashed my house again?”

“No, I think we’re even now. Unless you feel like destroying my new place.”

“Tempting.” It certainly had been that morning, but Eve’s pretty sure Carolyn wouldn’t be very happy with her if she did. “Well, seeing as you’re here – have you read the file I gave you?”

“You want to talk about work?” Villanelle almost looks offended. 

“What else would we talk about?” She asks, and she regrets it as soon as the words are out of her mouth, because there’s a glint of mischief in Villanelle’s eyes that Eve has come to associate with trouble.

“Mm, how about your very obvious jealousy this morning?” She suggests, and Eve groans, makes her way over to the kitchen because she really needs a drink if she’s going to have to deal with Villanelle after the day she’s had. “I was only  _ joking _ , Eve, god.” Eve flips her off as she reaches for a wine glass and a bottle of red from the rack. “Are you not going to offer me a glass?” Villanelle asks, when Eve only pours one. “That’s very rude. Not very hospitable. You’d make a terrible hostess.”

“Good thing I’m not then, isn’t it?” She takes a bigger sip of wine than she probably should, and nearly chokes on it when Villanelle appears in-front of her, stepping unnecessarily close as she reaches for her own glass.

Eve can feel the heat of her, and her back is at the counter and it’s just like the last time Villanelle was here except this time she doesn’t need the knife to hold Eve in place. 

“Mm, this is delicious.” Villanelle doesn’t move away, even once she’s poured her own glass, and Eve can’t breathe, eyes fixed on Villanelle’s neck as she swallows. “You still haven’t denied it, you know.”

“Denied what?”

“That you were jealous.” Villanelle’s eyes meet her own, then, pin her in place with the intensity in them, and her pupils are so wide that her eyes are nearly black, almost feral, but it only makes Eve’s heart beat that much faster. “So, were you? Jealous?” Villanelle takes another sip of wine, and Eve can’t help but watch her lips, painted red, part around the rim of the glass, leaving a perfect lipstick mark behind. 

“Why would I be jealous?” Eve asks, but her voice is shaky, affected by Villanelle’s presence, and she swallows hard when Villanelle’s lips quirk into a wicked smirk. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Eve.” She shifts closer, presses their bodies flush together, and Eve’s breath catches. “Perhaps that you weren’t the one I was fucking?” 

“That’s not something I want.” She tries to insist it, but it sounds so weak, so obviously a lie, and Villanelle’s chuckle, low and dirty, sends a bolt of heat between her legs. 

“It’s not?” Villanelle sways closer, until Eve can feel her breath against her lips, the sweetness of it, with the wine on her tongue, and Eve thinks ‘this is it, she’s going to kiss me’ and has never wanted anything more. “Okay, then.” Eve blinks, as Villanelle leans back, completely unaffected, her voice chipper, and then she’s turning away and Eve’s moving to stop her without even thinking about it.

She catches Villanelle’s wrist, her skin soft beneath her fingertips, and tugs until she comes to a stop, though she doesn’t turn back to face Eve. “What… where are you going?” 

“Well, you clearly don’t want me here, and you don’t want me to fuck you, so I’m just going to go and maybe find someone a little more willing.” Eve’s fingers tighten around Villanelle’s wrist, nails digging into her skin so hard that Villanelle gasps, and it nearly brings Eve to her knees. 

“I don’t want you to go,” she says, and her voice doesn’t sound like her own, and her brain is screaming at her that this is a terrible idea and she should just let Villanelle leave, but she knows she’s not going to. 

“No?” Villanelle turns. “And what  _ do  _ you want, Eve?” 

Eve thinks that her answer surprises them both, if the little ‘oomph’ of surprise that escapes Villanelle’s lips is any indication, as instead of speaking, Eve chooses to answer with a kiss, instead. 

It’s messy, because she’s practically thrown herself at the other woman, Villanelle falling back against the counter, but then she’s sliding a hand into Eve’s hair and adjusting and her tongue is in Eve’s mouth and  _ god _ , it feels so good, and Eve can’t help but wonder what it would feel like elsewhere, aches at the possibilities. 

She wants her hands on Villanelle, settles them at her hips, slides her fingers through the belt loops of her pants and tugs her closer, until there’s no space between them, sighs at how good Villanelle feels, at how good  _ Eve  _ feels, giving into her darkest desire. 

Eve doesn’t want this to happen in her kitchen, no matter the significance it appears to hold for the two of them, steers Villanelle backwards and she’s aiming for the couch but they end up on the living room floor instead, Eve flat on her back with Villanelle poised above her. 

Villanelle’s hands are rough and eager as they divest Eve of her clothes, and Eve tugs Villanelle’s shirt over her head and marvels at the skin it reveals, runs her hands all over her back as Villanelle mouths at her neck, feels the raw strength beneath her fingertips, digs her nails in and hears Villanelle breathe a curse.

“I didn’t think this would ever happen,” Villanelle admits, voice whispering over Eve’s skin. “I dreamed about it, but I never…” She trails off, flicks over one of Eve’s nipples with her thumb before ducking down to take it between her lips, tongue swirling in the most sinful way and Eve swears. “You feel so good, Eve. So much better than I imagined.” 

Villanelle looks at Eve like she’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, touches her like she’ll never have the chance to again, her kisses reverent but her teeth leaving marks all over Eve’s skin, something to remember this night by in the morning. 

Eve doesn’t know if Villanelle is teasing her on purpose, but she’s practically sobbing by the time Villanelle finally, really touches her, fingers sliding over slick flesh as her mouth kisses Eve’s thigh, and when she presses two fingers in deep before shifting to tease at Eve’s clit with her tongue, Eve nearly cries at how amazing it feels. 

She should probably be embarrassed, by how quickly she comes, but Villanelle is just  _ too  _ good and she’s wanted this for so long that all she can do is surrender to the feeling, hips grinding against Villanelle’s mouth and fireworks exploding behind her eyelids, but Villanelle doesn’t stop, makes her come three more times and Eve is pretty sure she’d go for a fourth if Eve didn’t push her gently away. 

She slides up Eve’s body with a grace Eve doesn’t think she’ll ever possess, wiping at the back of her mouth, her eyes wild and her hair mussed from Eve’s fingertips, and Eve doesn’t think she’s seen a more beautiful sight. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Villanelle asks, her voice light and her eyes brighter than Eve thinks she’s ever seen them. 

“Maybe later,” Eve says, before she’s shifting them, rolling Villanelle onto her back and kissing the taste of herself from the other woman’s lips. “But I have some plans for you, first.” 


End file.
